


Clean slate

by katiebuttercup



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, passing angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-07-26
Packaged: 2018-02-10 13:30:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2026866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katiebuttercup/pseuds/katiebuttercup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>England is determined to attend America's birthday party to wipe the slate clean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clean slate

Disclaimer: characters are not mine

 

The explosion of colour and noise woke England from her sleep, her body reacting viscerally to the sound. Old instincts kicking in, bloody nightmares rising to the surface of her mind. 

She held herself rigid, every sense alert and ready to fight even as her brain catalogued the noise as a non threat. 

Fireworks. 

She did a double take. 

Fireworks?

Groping blindly her phone on the nightstand England felt her heart pick up speed once more. A sense of dread weighing her down even as she scrolled across the screen to activate her phone.

"It's late. You missed the party." 

The phone fell from nerveless fingers as England recognised the voice from the window. The tall lean figure obscuring the intrusion of the light show.

If England had the ability she would have been frightened at that moment. As it was she contemplated the younger nation, reading the disappointment written across his features and felt her heart clench at the sight. 

She opened her mouth to offer an excuse but nothing came out. England wasn't one to excuse her actions. She had promised to come to America's birthday and she had failed to do so. The fact that she had been weighted down by bureaucracy and paperwork was of little consequence. 

England paused, the apology that had settled on her chest was still new. England wasn't used to apologising, or at least meaning it when she did. She wanted to get it right.

"I'm sorry."

America shrugged, his face easing, "I got a call from your boss about an hour ago. He didn't realise the date." 

"Well he wouldn't." England replied, the Fourth of July past over most Britons heads without a thought which was why her ministers seemed to have no qualms about handing her paperwork even though she had booked the day off. 

"You're pretty snowed under.” 

It wasn't a question. 

England glanced at the sleeping laptop that had fallen haphazardly (to the side when she had fallen asleep. She had only meant to nap for a couple of minutes before heading to America's home for his party. She had overslept by hours.

"I should've called at least to tell you I was here. I just wanted to get things done so I wasn't thinking about it at the party." 

America settled on the bed beside her, lacing their fingers together, "It's fine, England."

"It's not, I promised.” 

And she had, and her promise meant everything to her. She had wanted this to be a new start, a clean slate where they could move forward together without having to worry about rehashing the past.

"It's fine," America said firmly, "besides I drew on your face with a sharpie while you were asleep." 

"You what?" England grabbed the compact mirror from her handbag and stared at her cheek, glaring at the crudely drawn American flag painted there. 

"It doesn't even look like your flag," England said.

"Hey you try drawing on a movable surface that's as soft as skin." America said defensively, "it's not easy."

England shut the tiny mirror, her face softening as she felt his strong, dexterous fingers move against her own.

"I'll be ready to leave in a couple of minutes," England said, 

"The party's over England." America said, 

"There's still the fireworks right?" England said, "we could just sit on the porch swing in the back garden.” 

America looked around the hotel room, filled with every luxury England could need. 

"Don't you want to stay here? The thread count feels pretty good,” he ran his free hand over the sheets that were probably worth more than America's home. 

"No, I think I can manage with plain cotton for a while," England said, "besides you've got a new bed right?" 

"Which was also your fault, thanks for reminding me."

England frowned, "I had help! I wasn't alone in the bed when it broke." 

America grabbed England's laptop and the technological paraphernalia that went with it, his mood lifted with the familiar rhythm of their banter.

"You were on top and I could barely walk the day after." America mock complained. 

"We'll it's a shame you feel that way because I had planned on revisiting certain aspects of that night in lieu of a proper birthday present," England said with a straight face. 

"You mean birthday sex?"

England shrugged one shoulder. Elegantly. 

America grinned.


End file.
